


A Little Bit of Medicine

by skerb



Series: A Little Bit of Medicine [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Don't copy to another site, Edge makes poor decisions under panic(tm), Edge referred to as Papyrus, Fontcest, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Medicine, Protectiveness, SOUL Mechanics (Undertale), Sans is ok with that, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), kind of a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 06:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skerb/pseuds/skerb
Summary: Sans has a bug. UF Papyrus has more than "a little" concern.





	1. Chapter 1

There was something to be said about Sans when it came to hiding his emotions, or even the way normal illnesses would be brushed aside. He was able to dodge it; not forever, but in all likelihood, perhaps a week or two at most.

He knew the moment he’d begun to feel more sluggish than usual, how every movement seemed to ache and pull at his magic in strenuous ways. He’d attempted to stick to his brother’s ways of attacking it with a hot soak and some good food, but that had been yesterday… and Sans was still feeling it.

Much to this Papyrus’ concern, when he was sure the taller skeleton would notice that something was off. Despite his comfort around his host’s usual exuberance, Sans felt that it was wearing him down. It burned along the edges of his magic, making it feel puffy and sore. Every step he took was like boulders weighing down on him, every breath feeling like it caught just a little.

Damn it.

He’d caught the bug that Papyrus had.

Wiping over his brow for what was probably the eighth time that morning, he knew better than to exert himself. He mentally weighed the pros and cons of getting dressed that day as he stood in the middle of his alternate’s room, swaying a little on the spot as a dizzy spell came over him.

Hell, could he even make it down the  _ stairs? _

Sans rubbed at an eye socket, glowering at the carpet that seemed to blur around the edges. It squirmed like insects, affected by the haze, and Sans just  _ knew _ he couldn’t go downstairs. If anything, he’d miss the first step and fall the rest of the way, he figured blearily. Lamentably, since he knew Papyrus would likely be up in arms over him contracting his sickness, the skeleton moved back to the bed, not feeling right, but not wanting to call in for concern just yet. Some rest, and he’d be fine.

He’d be fine, although it certainly didn’t feel that way. He wrestled the bed covers for an hour or two, sweat clinging to his bones, to his nightshirt, sticking to the sheets. He slept fitfully, flushed, the attempt at rest only exhausting him further. A time or two he’d woken up with his face so close to the cold wall that he thought that he’d thrown himself against it in his sleep; it certainly felt like it. Sans had nightmares before, but nothing like the ungodly cacophonous melange of delirium his mind assaulted him with to accompany his thrashing.

He spent the better part of the late morning staring off into space, his magic feebly coiling to resist whatever interference was going on in his soul. His rib cage pushed against the mattress where he lay, the sharp stutters making him feel far worse than it probably was.

Still, he couldn’t push away the unfathomable  _ ache _ nor the heat that encompassed him as his body fought off the virus. He didn’t know what had possessed Papyrus to fight through such a sickness, but it certainly explained the delirium. Sans huffed as a hiccough made his magic spike in a dreadful way, straining his dwindling reserves enough to make him whimper into his pillow.

If Papyrus was loathe to show how the flu had reduced him to such a weakened state, Sans could only imagine how the taller skeleton would glower at his own frailty. The smaller monster curled inward on himself, feeling around under the covers to try to get comfortable. He didn’t want to think about how his host would lament his weak constitution, despite Sans’ efforts to be patient with him before. It would only serve to make him more miserable.

It was as though every movement bolstered the heat despite his chills, pulling dizzying waves of vertigo to make the bed spin in place. He grunted in dissatisfaction, finally settling with one foot poking out while the rest of him was buried in covers. It provided the best relief, as though his toes offered more heat regulation than any other bone in his body.

Rest was fitful, but he’d stayed in more or less the same position. His skull was throbbing with heat and he could blearily make out faint thumping from somewhere off in the distance. It grew in volume, and with it came an anxiety that his soulbeat was irregular and hard. Had it always resounded so loudly? Was he in such pain that it had fractured upon itself, ready for any wayward monster to take advantage?

Sans grimaced with the thought. He’d been in this universe for far too long. He pushed himself up, back aching as several joints popped in protest. He still felt exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep anymore. The skeleton’s vision swam with little pips of colour and he attempted to follow the lights until focusing just made his head throb all the more.

With a muted groan, he pushed his back against the wall, its cool, smooth surface an instant relief that gradually turned into another full-body chill. Shivering, Sans pulled the covers around him, trying to gather some semblance of warmth and comfort, while at the same time attempting to muffle the rattling. The last thing he needed was Papyrus coming upstairs, and… 

Wait, why was that a bad thing?

Because, Sans irritably thought in his best self-disparaging internal tone, the guy has enough on his plate without some universe-hopping doppelganger of his brother-turned-whatever-the-heck-they-were showing how much of a liability he was, after essentially proving to the taller skeleton that he was anything but.

Shuffling the comforter over his shoulders, Sans repressed the shivering and clattering bones. He instead listened to the steady  _ thump _ of his soul; its measured beats, how strong it was to fight… It always felt so strange to recall his brother’s way of self-soothing, but with it brought comfort.

Still, he was miserable, yet there it was.  _ T-thump, t-thump, thump. T-thump, t-thump, thump. _

It was getting louder, too. He was so sure it was his soul that when Sans opened his eyes to check, he barely registered the sliver of yellow pouring into the room from the hallway light. Nor did he see the figure that obstructed it when Sans, shrouded in blankets and thinking himself alone, coaxed his soul out of hiding to Check.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?”

Sans immediately flinched and pressed the organ back to his breastbone, his calmness shaking back to the miserably sick state before. Had he the strength, he would’ve laughed. But he settled on a wheezed chuckle that just didn’t seem right when he heard that  _ t-thump _ echo again - this time clearer. He pushed his spine against the wall to keep himself from swaying where he sat, eyeing the taller skeleton as though he wasn’t quite sure how to break the news.

“OH MY GOD. ARE YOU ILL?”

Welp, that was easy. Sans attempted to nod but only his eyes lidded, his whole body screeching for sleep and longing for comfort. His eyes felt heavy and before he realised what had happened, he was sitting through a long diatribe of condescending yet concerned lectures.

All of the words fell deaf on him, apart from the final thought; “I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I, OF COUNTLESS POSSIBLE INTERFERENCES, WAS THE ONE TO MAKE YOU SICK!?”

Sans’ eye sockets widened at that. Well,  _ that _ wouldn’t do - it wasn’t the guy’s fault he had the immune system of a toddler. The shorter monster huffed again, his magic throbbing in the worst way as guilt washed over him when he looked up to Papyrus’ scarred face.

“what? it wasn’t you. y.. y’didn’t do anything, man. it’s just a bug. i’ll-”

“A BUG?” was the shrill echo and Sans grimaced, tugging the blanket around him to ward off another chill. “A  _ BUG?? _ BUT OF COURSE. THIS MAKES PERFECT SENSE, AND WHILE I AM…  _ IRRITATED _ SOMEONE HAS HAD THE GALL TO STEP FOOT INTO MY HOME, IT WILL NOT BE WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE.”

Ok, that made no sense, Sans thought wearily.

Papyrus threw balled fists onto the bed, giving Sans a start. It was everything the smaller skeleton could do to not groan in protest, to allow his body to slump to the side and fall asleep. Somehow he resisted, but the skull in front of him was veering in his vision and the knotty, aching throb pulsed in his head.

It was then that Sans realised that he wasn’t focusing on anything that Papyrus was saying. He was just absorbed in the deep red fabric around his throat, how it bloomed at the edges of his vision, and how the familiar monster’s voice faded off into the distance.

“YOU’RE VERY CLEARLY ILL,” Papyrus was saying, watching as Sans swayed a little where he sat. His voice held none of its usual aggression however, and his features were softened. If Sans didn’t know any better, Papyrus’ concern was legitimate and no amount of harshness in this universe would be able to cover that up.

Dumbly, Sans nodded, allowing his shoulders to slump with the careful touch to his skull. His mouth hung open when the phalanges covered his hot forehead, sending another shiver through him.

“cool,” he mumbled through a grimace. He leaned forward with the touch, unsteady, one of his hands venturing out of the comforter to clasp over Papyrus’ wrist and keep him there. He might’ve thought something peculiar about the way his friend reacted to that, but Sans was too preoccupied in getting more relief from the cool, rough fingerbones.

Papyrus attempted to remain collected at the odd display, when Sans pulled his hand from his face to bring it to the vertebrae at his neck. The heat of the bone under his fingers made warmth flood his face, and with Sans’ relieved sigh, Papyrus coughed excusingly and moved to jerk his hand away.

“I.. I’M GOING TO FETCH SOMETHING! FOR YOU!! TO EAT!” Papyrus attempted to restrain the way the action made him so caught off guard, but every addition to his sentence squawked embarrassingly and his voice was a touch higher.

Meanwhile, Sans didn’t look that bothered, but carefully began to ease himself down onto the mattress again, looking worse for wear and feeling it all the more. He restrained himself from making any noise despite how his voice was tempted to whimper or groan at his internal malaise. Going down again wasn’t any easier than the first time.

Thankfully, Papyrus extended a helping hand to gently push him back and tuck him in. Despite how his toes were now covered, Sans’ skull was elevated enough that it relieved some pressure from his spine. The magic holding him together felt frayed, unwinding little by little, as though tied to a brick as it dove off the ledge of a cliff, maybe. He was too far gone to really think of any clever metaphors.

Now that Sans was sleeping, Papyrus could fret without being called out on it. It wasn’t normally his place, but he extended himself that kind of courtesy when no one else was watching. He worried, tugging at the creases in his pants, fidgeting and his gaze drinking in every possible level of pain Sans was currently withstanding. He clenched his sharp teeth together, self-deprecating thoughts coming to mind as he went over it.

Close together - Sans had been insistent on helping him. He had taken over his cooking. He’d helped him to eat the soup. He assisted him with moving to somewhere comfortable. Rested on the couch.

_ Close on the couch. _ For hours… where Sans was left vulnerable while Papyrus slept. Anything could have happened. The illness had been short, over in about a few days, but it had been the worst Papyrus had felt in all of his life.

Sans told him that it wasn’t him that got him ill. So what had it been? A migosp? A cockroach..? Too many had been let off by the Great and Terrible Papyrus that they would never  _ dare _ to spit at his mercy in such a way… and to invade his own home.

No.

A different type of insect entirely would be the culprit of such underhanded, conniving ways.

Papyrus’ fist bunched at his knee, if only to repress the instant flare of anger in that moment. If Sans hadn’t caught his illness from  _ him, _ and named a  _ bug, _ what other conclusion could he otherwise come to?

He thought on the subject long and hard. Sans had been by his side whether he wanted him to be or not. The shorter skeleton had ensured his safety, and now he was at risk. The accepted social convention would be to repay the debt swiftly so the other party wouldn’t take advantage of the vulnerability and call for something unsavoury to one’s honour. Yet somehow, Papyrus was sure that Sans wouldn’t ask anything too foul. Sans didn’t have a mean bone in him, despite how indifferent he acted at times.

He’d have to wait and see.

When Sans next came to, he was standing outside of the door of his counterpart’s room, wobbling as several pieces of information slowly clicked into place. One: that he had ventured out of the room in a fugue and was now teetering close to the wooden railing separating the floors. Two: he didn’t have much of an appetite, despite how his magic roiled ceaselessly. And three: he was pretty sure the reason why he exited the room in the first place was because he felt like Papyrus was going to do something… weird.

Of that nature, normally, his brother was adept. But his host was not his brother, or at least, was a variation so different, yet not at all. Still, Sans muffled a quiet grunt as he brought his hand to his neck, giving the stiff bones a harsh rub as though it would soothe away the ache.

The staircase seemed much longer and higher than he’d last encountered it, but he’d be damned if he was going to call out to Papyrus for help. He just knew he’d be reprimanded for it for one reason or another. Sans sighed as another wash of heat came over him in waves and he regretted leaving the comforter behind when he approached the first step.

As he stared it down, his vision seemed to swim. The zigzaggy carpet on the landing and leading down the stairs confused his senses, and Sans couldn’t figure out where one step ended and another began. His soul skipped when he scuffed his slipper against the landing’s edge, taking the railing with one hand to ensure that he didn’t slip.

Another hot flood of vertigo made the pit of his spine lurch and Sans allowed himself to sink down to the first step. Sitting down was probably the best choice. The staircase looked as though it was at least four stories in height, and the little skeleton was too far gone to even attempt more than a couple of steps at a time.

The sounds echoing up from the living room below were concerning, enough that Sans had to squint to focus. The dangling of chains, rough clothing, decisive stomping. Sans huffed out another sigh as though it bolstered him and slid his posterior onto the next step down, his phalanges still gripping the railing above his skull.

His hand made a grating noise, which was as he’d expected. The person making all the noise downstairs suddenly fell silent, and for a moment, Sans’ raspy breathing was the only thing he could hear. With his soul thrumming nervously, he hadn’t considered it being anyone else apart from the taller skeleton. Sans poised himself, ready to flee.

That is, ready until he felt the sudden striking anxiety and aggression that magic in this universe took on as it enveloped his soul. It tightened like a choke hold around his neck, but not enough to strangle.

He gaped helplessly, frozen in place yet feeling so heavy that he was sure to slump down the rest of the stairs. His weakened state aside, Blue magic was too powerful even back home, but being sick while being subjected to it… Sans definitely wasn’t feeling well, then.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”

Oh. Well, that answer was easy to find. It still didn’t ease any of the tumultuous panic Sans felt by being, essentially, pinned in place three-quarters of the way upstairs.

“m’hungry.”

“WHAT??”

“i’m. hungry, i think. probably,” he replied, this time more emphatically. He had a feeling that Papyrus was scrutinising how he held himself, even under magical pressure, so he continued on. “where’re ya going?”

Papyrus started towards the staircase, his jacket half-thrown over one shoulder and his boots jangling undone. His usual red scarf, which Sans had noted looked far more used than his brother’s version, was loosely thrown around his neck.

“NOWHERE.”

“y’really dressing up for little ol’ me?” Sans wheezed out a chuckle at the startled look, his laughter petering off merely because he didn’t have the strength. “can you let go?”

“I THINK NOT. BACK UPSTAIRS!”

“ok, but… i still need food,” Sans objected as the taller skeleton came into focus in front of him. The wood under the carpet thundered with his footsteps and echoed all the way up his tailbone and spine. Even though he now knew where the Blue magic was coming from, Sans’ anxiety didn’t dispel his fight or flee instincts. “kinda hard to move when you’re pinned to the stairwell, though.”

Sans watched as Papyrus paused a step below his feet, but his vision was too hazy to focus on the precise expression the taller skeleton was wearing. All he knew was the exact moment when the magic surrounding his soul was dispelled, and Sans couldn’t help the pathetic groan when his body relaxed on the awkward surface.

“YOU WILL GO BACK TO BED, BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE AT FAULT IF YOU CREATE A MESS ON THE STAIRS,” Papyrus said without his usual haughty tone and made to grab for Sans’ arm. The smaller monster had flung his hand out to steady himself, a distracted and peculiar look on his face as though he couldn’t keep balanced. “WHAT’S WITH THAT LOOK? COME _ ON.” _

Sans stared at him - or rather, past Papyrus, his eye lights guttering out for a moment as another wash of dizziness flooded over him. The room - no, the  _ entire house _ felt as though it was tilting suddenly to its side, and Sans curled against the direction to soothe his poor recoiling magic.

He didn’t even flinch when Papyrus went to assist him, Sans’ hands automatically enclosing on the other’s arms to steady himself. He was starting to tremble again, the faint clatter of bones jostling together so audibly that Sans tried to stop himself, self-conscious.

“HOW DID YOU BECOME SO POORLY IN SUCH A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME??” Papyrus demanded, but again, Sans didn’t detect his usual tone. His voice was laced with something, but it faded in and out as the smaller skeleton teetered on the spot.

Thinking it better than merely helping Sans to stand, Papyrus readied his stance on the stairs and pulled Sans forward and into his arms.  _ It’s nothing, _ his thoughts almost shrieked as he enveloped his arms around the smaller trembling body. Sans’ arms remained at his sides, not even  _ attempting _ to defend himself or help himself to stay upright-

Papyrus paused as he critically eyed Sans, fixing his posture so Sans’ face wasn’t pressed directly to his sternum. He was leaning against him, his body rattling intermittently as Sans fought the quakes wracking him.

His breaths were raspy and shallow. Papyrus could almost feel the feverish heat coming off from him as his magic soured, flickering like a dying candle.

He would have to go investigating when Sans stabilised, when he got some food ready for him… 

Papyrus almost squawked when Sans’ legs gave out and he redoubled his hold around the smaller monster. He’d very nearly stepped back in a stumble - which would’ve meant a lot of broken bones at the end of the staircase for the two of them. He swallowed thickly as he side-stepped to fully pull the smaller skeleton into his arms and moved down the hall.

It was everything he could do not to freak out. Hell, his own brother had fallen ill several times and it had irked him to some degree, but not quite to the lashing, all-consuming sudden panic that surged inside of his soul when Sans suddenly displayed those same symptoms.

Thoughts echoed around inside of his skull as they flittered this way and that, both berating and worried at once. He should go to the healer in the woods - no, actually, he  _ shouldn’t _ , that would leave Sans exposed. Sans could always go with him -  _ no, you fool, _ that would display how frail he was, and the residents of Snowdin preyed on those who showed weakness, although less than other parts of the Underground… Still! It was no compromise!

What he  _ should _ do is bring the healer -  _ REALLY, PAPYRUS?? _ Was he so stupid as to compromise his home and health to invite a stranger into his home? To the privacy or his and Sans’ shared space? Where said monster could observe any variance of outward frustration and how Sans was  _ off. _ Not just in the way that he was unwell, but how he was… well,  _ him. _

Papyrus steamed on every option available, going as far as to lay the skeleton in his arms into his brother’s bed. He stopped himself, his hand outreached once more to touch Sans’ flushed face. Papyrus knew he wasn’t feeling well - so why was he insistent upon  _ touching _ Sans so much?

He knew why and he grumbled sourly to himself, grabbing one side of the blanket on the bed before turning the hem over in his hands. There was only so many times he could blame himself, then deflect it to someone else. Sans was ill… because of him. So it only stood to reason that Papyrus had to nurse him back to health.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> content warning in the end notes

Sans was being jostled, his subconsciousness flickering back to life like a growing ripple. He’d known the pain of fatigue long enough, was used to his brother’s rough handling of him, but nothing pained Sans more than the gangling tugs at his limbs as he was put back into bed.

Perhaps that wasn’t the case. Maybe Papyrus was doing his best _not_ to jostle him, but every adjustment seemed to jerk Sans around like a ragdoll. He groaned in protest, the sound raspy. When he cracked an eye open, Sans thought for a moment that he could see the distinct glow of healing magic - but with the possession of LV amongst nearly every monster, healing magic was close to extinct in this universe.

“pap..?” Sans’ voice cracked despite himself, and the following pause was almost deafening. “are you healin’ me..?”

“DON’T BE STUPID,” the familiar, yet different voice retorted in near-exasperation from out of sight, “LIE DOWN.”

Sans sunk down to one elbow, his vision watery and weary as he looked at his brother’s counterpart.

He looked fierce, something deep in his expression troubled. Yet he attempted to hold himself together. What he didn’t realise was that Sans was adept at reading people despite feeling as though he had been thrown across the Underground and hit every pain puzzle on the way. That gave him some enlightenment as to how Papyrus was truly feeling, and in that it was brightly reassuring.

Another thing that was assuring was that it still appeared that he was in the house as opposed to anywhere else. Sans didn't know what he would’ve done if he had woken up in a hospital, or god forbid, a lab. He wasn’t quite sure how illness recovery worked in this universe. If the mantra of ‘kill or be killed’ was anything to go by, Sans figured that hospitals or recovery rooms were either very plentiful, or extremely rare.

Regardless, Sans was content enough to be piled in blankets in his absent counterpart’s room, smelling too much like spent magic and copper to feel like his own room at home. But it was close enough, which helped him stay calm.

“what’re you doing then, bud,” the smaller skeleton mumbled from the covers after having fully leaned back again. He drew in a cautious breath when he saw the other skeleton come into view again, leaning down and over him. His soul did a startled jump in his chest at that, a peculiar reaction when all Papyrus was doing was adjusting the pillow behind his head. “smells weird.”

“IT’S MEDICINE,” the other supplied dryly. “I HAD TO TEST IT.”

Sans gave him a searching look, not quite understanding. His confusion must’ve been apparent since Papyrus deemed to elaborate; “IT COULD HAVE EASILY BEEN POISON.”

“why did you get-” Sans stopped to rub over his face, exhaustion in his tone, “when you all but yelled at me not to leave when _you_ were like this.”

“I WASN’T THIS BAD,” Papyrus all but hissed angrily. “I HAD NOT ONCE FAINTED. YOU, WITH YOUR PIDDLY HP AND LACK OF CONSTITUTION-”

“hey,” Sans protested in an unoffending tone, “words hurt.”

“RIGHT, BECAUSE IN YOUR UNIVERSE YOU ARE SO SOFT THAT ACTUAL WORDS MAY HARM YOU.” Papyrus stopped as though he was actually considering it. Sans at least had the clarity to figure that the other was actually trying to decipher if that was literally the case.

“don’t worry. i won’t actually dust if you call me `asshole`,” Sans chuckled wryly.

“OF COURSE NOT. IF THAT WERE THE CASE I’D HAVE LESS WORRIES ON MY HANDS AND I WOULD’VE HAD A FULL VACUUM BAG UPON OUR FIRST ENCOUNTER.”

Sans grimaced as though that had actually stung, but said nothing in retaliation.

Papyrus continued with a dismissive gesture. “GOING OUTSIDE WOULD MEAN YOU WOULD HAVE TO THINK LIKE US. IT IS CLEAR THAT YOU DO NOT. YOU WOULD HAVE-”

“you were worried?” Sans jumped on the opportunity to derail the lecture. “`bout little ol’ me?”

Colour touched the other skeleton’s cheekbones and his mouth abruptly closed, eye lights settling astutely to the side instead of at Sans.

“OF COURSE NOT!”

Sans couldn’t figure whether he liked the attention or not, but the reaction made his soul do a little flutter anyway.

The other pressed on, avoiding Sans’ stare. “POINT BEING, YOU SEARCHING OUT AID FOR MY SAKE WOULD HAVE TIPPED OTHERS AS TO MY WEAKENED STATE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF. WITH YOU BEING THE WAY YOU ARE, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A SIGNAL BEACON FOR FREE EXP. MY BROTHER-” Papyrus stopped, his voice leaning into the peculiar falter whenever he spoke about Sans’ counterpart before he continued. It was _almost_ seamless. “IT WAS NOT UNCOMMON I WOULD NEED TO SEEK OUT FOODS THAT AIDED IN RECOVERY.”

Sans sank back against the mattress with every ‘would have been’ drilled into him. As he woke up more and more, it became astoundingly clear that his skull was pounding and he was ravenous. He tested moving his leg and arms a little, finally opting to move his head to the side with a muted grunt.

“ok,” he muttered a little rawly, “got any food before i gotta choke down meds?”

Papyrus looked back to Sans, his eye lights rapt in an unnatural tell. Sans didn’t know how to describe it; probably more of a cross between being smug and dangerously attentive. “OF COURSE I DO.” His voice was almost a purr, very nearly curt.

Sans brought a hand up to rub at his eye socket. It was either that he was so tired that his perception was tricking him, or he was off his game due to the covert nature of the monsters in this universe. Carefully, he pushed himself up onto an elbow and watched as Papyrus stood, turning in one movement so smoothly that Sans’ head was spinning.

That’s when he realised the odd little peculiarity that he had been stuck on; and noted what it meant to ask for food. Like a dummy, the smaller skeleton dragged a hand down his face. Outwardly asking for food in someone’s home had been revealed to him to be on the same intimacy level as casually asking for sex.

 _Don’t think about having sex,_ Sans internally shrieked. It was a good thing he was too tired to emote, so instead wrestled with the covers to sit up, leaning up against the cool wall to survey the room as Papyrus left.

It hadn’t been clear of how long it had been empty, but his host had divulged that the room had not been occupied for some time. It was sad that he gravitated towards it, intruding and finding a place there instead of attempting to find a way back to his own world. But at the same time, he had no idea where to start. It was awkward to think about, so Sans just didn’t.

His eye lights gravitated towards a palm-sized tin on the nightstand, worn and scratched at the sides. The coppery smell was coming from it and along with it, a fierce intent marked on the container. He knew better than to reach out for it and instead relaxed against the wall again, clouding the comforter around him until Papyrus returned.

Lunch was brought up soon enough, although the smell was masked by whatever was in the closed container. Sans figured that it was the medicine and leaned forward to take the soup that had lasted them well over a week now. When the first spoonful hit his tongue, Sans coughed with the well of spit and magic that flooded his mouth, intent all but screaming _get better_ at him.

He pounded his chest with a restrained cough as it shot through his system and straight to his soul, where it throbbed with such an intensity that the awkward gasp that escaped him made Sans sputter.

Eventually, he recovered from the blow. “holy shit,” he coughed again, a little more harshly.

Papyrus gave him an enquiring look, marked by impatience, but also more of that hidden concern. Sans squinted with one eye. As hungry as he was, he didn’t think that he could stomach another suckerpunch of such demanding soup just yet.

“EAT.”

Sans would’ve flushed, if he wasn’t already due to the fever. “dude. i dunno what you think i am, but i can handle only so much at a time,” he grumbled, the corners of his mouth quirking in a threatening grin.

Papyrus grabbed the bowl of tomato soup with a flash of concern, staring at the bowl’s contents with a studious glare. Sans felt a tingle in the air and he had to prevent the wan chuckle that threatened to escape him, instead opting for, “be gentle with me, edgy.”

More colour graced the other’s cheekbones but he didn’t look up. After seemingly searching for something within the contents of the bowl, Papyrus thrust it back into Sans’ hands. “THERE. AND DON’T SAY IT THAT WAY.”

Sans continued to grin despite himself and dipped the spoon, hoping to hell and back that it wouldn’t punch him into the wall again. When the next spoonful hit his tongue, this time it tingled and flowed a little easier. The full effect of the intent was restrained, yet the worry and care was still there. Peculiar for a monster with LV to still show compassion, but it was that same compassion that allowed Sans to live as long as he had when he showed up. Shed or no shed.

“WELL?” Papyrus groused, his arms folded over his chest as he tapped his foot. A telling fidget. “ARE YOUR SENSIBILITIES UNBURDENED, THEN?”

The smaller skeleton smiled fondly, however briefly, and continued with another helping after a short nod. As good as it was and as hungry as he felt, Sans couldn’t manage more than half of the bowl.

Seemingly unsatisfied with how little Sans had eaten, Papyrus took the bowl surrendered to him and watched as Sans sank back with a long sigh, cusping on the edge of pain. He glowered at him as Sans’ eyes lidded, his face flushed and clammy with sweat.

“what’s that look for.”

Papyrus didn’t reply, but he set the bowl on the nightstand and took up the container instead. Sans inhaled a shuddering breath, worming under the blankets a little more. He ached. God, how he ached, and this was only day one. And already his host looked so irritated he could zap a fly from the ceiling with his stare. It made Sans feel a little worse to be so useless, when he already felt useless before.

“sorry.”

When the taller skeleton looked back, Sans was averting his gaze. Now that he wouldn’t be caught, Papyrus allowed his expression to soften, although he was still irritated. Not with the other skeleton, no, but for himself. The medicine had costed a pretty penny; several, actually. Forty gold where his hundred-and-nine wages for the week could barely cover the cost of living, and not for much. That had even been _after_ bartering and threats. A compromise had been reached, but Papyrus still felt as though he had the short end of the stick. And he disliked being taken advantage.

Which was why he didn’t trust it all to begin with. Given the instructions on how to apply the salve, he had tested it downstairs before bringing it up. A line down the inside of his breastbone, close to his soul for easy absorption. He didn’t feel any ill intent, poison or otherwise, but it reeked of mustard seed and copper. It pulled memories from his heart better left buried. It took awhile for him to be able to go upstairs, pushing at the feelings he had learned to quiet after all this time.

“WHY ARE YOU APOLOGISING,” Papyrus finally said, his voice a little lower than before. “DID YOU DO THIS ON PURPOSE?”

Sans flinched and lowered his head, drawing the comforter around him to soothe his shakes. “nah. i mean, sorry that you had to… you know. take care of me.”

Papyrus regarded him for a moment, taking in every detail of the smaller skeleton. His frown was set in a hard and jagged line, his eye lights hard and cast in a permanent glower that made Sans shrink in on himself. The smaller monster was avoiding his look as though he were truly ashamed.

Nonsense. It was such nonsense that Papyrus sighed harshly and grabbed the comforter and jerked it away from Sans’ arms, abruptly cutting off the startled, “dude, what the fuck!”

Shivering with his arms wrapped loosely around his torso, Sans eyed him warily as Papyrus discarded the blanket and made to grab the container of medicine. Whatever Sans had been thinking, it hadn’t been that, but nor did he object.

Papyrus unscrewed the top of the tin and the room immediately filled with the acrid smell of mustard seed and copper once more.

Sans grimaced. “oh. warn a guy, will ya?”

“WOULD YOU RATHER I SHEEPILY ASK YOUR PERMISSION TO TOUCH YOUR PERSON, OR SHALL I MAKE LIKE THOSE CREEPY CARTOONS YOU’VE TAKEN TO AND PIN YOU DOWN?” Papyrus demanded airily, brandishing the medicine as if it were a weapon instead.

Sans turned a rather flattering shade of blue instead when he realised that the other was referring to some of Alphys’ more derelict anime series. A few others came to mind, as well as the ‘aggressive suitor secludes their mate in an elevator shaft’ or some other variety, but Sans is starting to flatline a little mentally to entertain anything further.

“should i call you `senpai`, too?” he joked and Papyrus outwardly groaned in retaliation, tossing the container to the bed. “too much?”

“I’M NOT RUBBING THE SALVE ON YOU.”

“aw,” Sans teased with a slightly derious wink. “ok, then. i still need instruction, though.” He made to grab the tin, but the other had collected it again. Funny how the guy refused to help, but made it difficult for Sans to do things on his own.

Instead, the taller skeleton held out the open tin for Sans, inferring that he take some with a vague sort of gesture. How kind of him to believe that Sans could do anything other than quake under chills. So Sans stared at him, patiently waiting, then glanced down forlornly to his treasured warm blanket.

“TAKE SOME,” Papyrus instructed with another vague gesture. Sans huffed and leaned forward to drag a couple of phalanges through the smelly salve, disliking the way it burned through his nasal aperture, but also liking the soothing after-ache once it had been absorbed into his body. “NOW APPLY IT BEHIND YOUR SOUL ON YOUR SPINE.”

Sans grimaced at the thick yellowy salve on his fingers and grabbed at the hem of his shirt with his other hand, then awkwardly reached under his rib cage to apply the medicine. He huffed as the cloying heat permeated his rib cage and took near-immediate effect, coaxing him to drop his hand. He resisted, his vision swimming with the powerful medicine.

He seized for a second as he’d accidentally passed his soul and it thrummed hard like a guitar at the physical touch. Sans hoped that he didn’t get any of the salve on it. It was difficult to tell. The medicine was _strong_ and made his eye sockets water with the intensity.

“turpentine,” he whispered harshly, “shit, this stuff’s strong enough to knock out a boss monster…”

“OF COURSE IT IS!! THAT’S WHY I SAID-” Papyrus said haltingly and made to reach for Sans’ shoulder. He had slouched quite a bit and was looking dazed. “DID YOU DO IT?”

“i, uh…” Sans blinked as though to clear his vision. It didn’t work. He dropped his hand from under his ribs, inhaling a stuttering breath. “nothing bad’ll happen if i accidentally, y’know… got some on my soul, right?”

Papyrus gave him a look - both incredulous and alarmed; “WHAT DO YOU MEAN `GOT SOME ON YOUR SOUL`?? WHY DID YOU SUMMON YOUR SOUL? THAT’S INSANE??”

Sans grimaced and wiped the remainder of the medicine off on the bed sheets, ignoring the indignant protest that escaped Papyrus when he did. “whaddaya mean? that’s the innate state of souls? you…” Sans wavered, unable to focus on words. “this’s… _very_ strong.”

“YOU IDIOT,” Papyrus groused and took off outside of the room and dashed into the washroom to grab a facecloth. He ran it under some warm water and wrung it out, his face easily flushed when he realised immediately what he’d need to do.

When he came back, Sans was struggling to keep awake. He at least looked content, but he also looked absolutely debauched with his shirt hiked up over his ribs and with long gasps punctuating the silence.

The taller skeleton didn’t take any time to ease into the bed like normally. He tossed the tin onto the floor in a hurry and got close, laying one hand on Sans’ shoulder to keep him steady. His eye lights flicked down once as though to gauge the depth between them, then back to Sans’ face.

He looked as though things were taking awhile to register. No doubt that his senses were dullened, lulled by sedation and healing magic that permeated the salve. Papyrus knew he had to clear off the soul to avoid overdosing this weak monster that wore his brother’s face, or risk losing him too.

He was a fool to have Sans do this himself. Yet at the same time, Papyrus couldn’t have very well demanded to do something so intimate.

Sans huffed, situating himself a little uncomfortably as he attempted to see what Papyrus was planning on doing. His skull lolled to the side almost comically, sweat trickling down the vertebrae on his neck.

“hey... edgy boy…” he mumbled, words slurring together. “`sit, uh… s’posed t’be this, uh…” Another slow blink, this time trying to keep his vision focused as well as keep awake. “definitely touched it,” he announced almost drunkenly.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS,” Papyrus muttered sourly and brought the dripping washcloth near. “LISTEN CAREFULLY BECAUSE IF YOU STRUGGLE, YOUR PATHETIC LIFE WILL MOST LIKELY END ON A SHARP BUTTON. I’M GOING TO-” here the taller skeleton hesitated. “-WASH AWAY THE EXCESS.”

“ok,” Sans mumbled. His head fell forward and he struggled to lift it. In fact, his arms didn’t even move from where he had wiped the salve on the sheets. “i trust ya.”

Papyrus ignored the way heat flooded his face at that. He hated the way his mind was twisting things, when he knew full well that Sans was merely under the influence. But he did wonder what it would feel like to hear those words for real, not forced under pretense of jokes or because the other felt too sick to take care of himself.

He pulled the washcloth under Sans’ ribs, leaning in a little closer while the smaller monster’s breath hitched softly. He saw the subtle glow under his clothes and dismissed thoughts of vulnerability that welled up. Instead, he drew the wet cloth near, so intune to the other’s body that he knew the precise moment that the cloth touched Sans’ soul.

A soft sound like a sigh, a startled huff. The organ was so small, so delicate, anything moved in the wrong way would likely dust it. Yet Papyrus held no animosity in his heart for Sans. He had an intensity for him, of course, which was more likely the reason why Sans reacted as he did.

Finding his arms again, Sans reached out and grabbed a fistful of Papyrus’ sweater with another startled huff, choking off a noise that sounded achingly similar to a moan.

Papyrus swallowed nervously. _This was dangerous._ “I’M JUST CLEARING OFF THE SALVE. REALLY, YOU SHOULDN’T…” he trailed off, hearing the tangled gasps that fell from the other’s mouth in embarrassing frequency. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE YOUR SOUL NEEDLESSLY SUMMONED LIKE THIS. IT’S DANGEROUS.” Keeping his voice level was optimal in order to not make it awkward. Too bad it was anything but level.

A staggered gasp sounded as Papyrus cautiously wiped the salve away from the sensitive organ. Sans buried his face into his shoulder just as Papyrus pulled his hand away from his soul. He figured he had gotten the majority of it. If he got the back of Sans’ spine too, it was only because he figured that the other skeleton had gotten his fair share of medicine via direct soul absorption.

He was now trapped however, until Sans calmed down and let go. His own soul drumming faster with their close proximity, Papyrus looked down and awkwardly patted Sans’ back.

“thanks,” Sans mumbled, his voice a little watery. “kinda dumb of me, y.. yeah.” He drew in a few shuddering breaths, exhaling each one hot and heavy against Papyrus’ chest. “everything ok now?”

“YOU’LL BE FINE.” Another few awkward moments with the smaller monster clinging to him, then gradually sinking against him as the high of magical drugs filtered through Sans’ body and Papyrus was all too aware that manhandling the other was too easy. Too trusting. No fighting where others would be distrustful and even aggressive if Sans had grown up here.

Carefully, he added quietly; “HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”

Sans stirred against his chest, his eye lights fuzzy and unfocused. “tired,” he said. “just… tired.”

 

It occurred a little later to Papyrus that he had acted out of panic. Too much of the drug and Sans would have blissfully fallen asleep and slipped into a Fallen state. But Papyrus also knew, once he had tucked the other skeleton in and cocooned him with blankets, that he had, perhaps, lingered too long. That in his selfishness, he’d relished the tender vulnerability. Not because Sans was weak, but because said he trusted him.

He tried not to linger on the silvery remnants that ran down the drain when he rinsed out the washcloth, his face burning the entire time.

What a fool he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for:  
> \- medicinal drug use via topical agent  
> \- dubcon soul touching near the end, but only due to the fact that Papyrus feels he has no choice
> 
> Woops, I accidentally series this because I was called a coward and thought... y'know what. Why not. I fuckin love sick fics. And I love kedgeup shy boys. And also I hinted at things that are half-sideways in the previous part that I might address in later parts.


End file.
